


just chemical reactions in your brain (and other moments)

by stellarisms



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Riding, Rough Sex, Switching, not to mention the ultimate benefit of being with the one person more messed up than you are, so many benefits, yes many benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarisms/pseuds/stellarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most dangerous weapon in the world, Hisoka knows, isn't a weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just chemical reactions in your brain (and other moments)

The most dangerous weapon in the world, Hisoka knows, isn't a weapon.  
  
Sometimes.  
  
It can take physical form, cut far beneath the skin deeper than any sharpened blade.  
  
Or it can have no physical form at all, leaves not even a blemish to be seen.  
  
Sometimes, it doesn't even have to touch a person to cause them hurt.  
  
Even if--  
  
Well.  
  
Those kinds of weapons can be just as effective.

 

* * *

  
  
No, Hisoka thinks, the most powerful weapon of them all is the weapon of touch.  
  
A single touch.  
  
Not the kind that serves as a tool of mass emotional de(con)struction.  
  
Not the kind that doubles as a taut string wound around the neck.  
  
No, neither of those.  
  
Although.  
  
Those weapons aren't too bad, either.

 

* * *

  
  
(Still, to touch and to be touched:  
  
That is the question.  
  
Isn't it?)

 

* * *

  
  
A single touch is a dangerous thing.  
  
Why, you ask?  
  
Because it's the ultimate form of trust for human beings.  
  
It's trust -- for those who are friends, those who are enemies.  
  
It's trust -- for those who are inclined to love, for those who are loathe to do so.  
  
It's trust -- wrapped into a single gesture, captured by reactions made beneath the surface that no ordinary eyes could ever see.  
  
Except.  
  
Maybe "that person," Hisoka smiles at the thought, could see underneath his skin.  
  
He wouldn't be the least bit surprised.  
  
But only because it's _him_.

 

* * *

  
Hisoka thinks about it every time.  
  
The knowledge alone should make him hesitate, make him turn to move away.  
  
He's always been a bit of a rebel, at the heart of things.

   
  
If he wanted, the bloodstreams that channel from heart to head warn him, he could kill you instantly.  
  
If he wanted to, the adrenaline that pumps from forearm to toes curling reminds him, he could slice you open.  
  
If he wanted to, the swimming vision that clouds speaks over his muddled mind, he could destroy you.

While you're lying here like this, on your hands and knees, spreading yourself open for him.  
  
While you're sitting in his lap like this, arms tied, because you aren't allowed that tonight.  
  
While you're pulling apart sheets, tearing off clothes, letting him unravel you.

 

A single touch.  
  
Needlepoint to pressure point exploited.  
  
That's all it would take.

 

* * *

  
  
("You did say," chides Illumi, all impassive expression and pressure on his hipbones that hurts and aches and almost punctures the skin just so, just **right** , "I could hit you up any time."  
  
"And as I recall," Hisoka hums, sigh turning into a drawn out stuttering moan as soon as one, two, three fingers reach down to press back into him again, "you misunderstood the meaning of that entirely the first time I made you that offer."  
  
"I hit you," recalls Illumi, matter-of-fact, as if his fingers weren't curled knuckle-deep and his other hand wasn't unconsciously steadying Hisoka's trembling thighs, "so hard I broke your jaw."  
  
And Hisoka laughs quieter, softer, almost self-depreciating.  
  
Almost.  
  
"Nevertheless," Hisoka pulls his wrists free again, Bungee Gum bindings disappearing the instant hands clutch Illumi's shoulders and nails drawing thick streaks of red down his back, "it's an offer you didn't refuse, Illumi-kun.")

 

* * *

 

 

Not only does Illumi provide little to no disagreement to that, he proceeds to remind Hisoka just how underestimated the power of touch can be.  
  
Or the lack thereof, as the case was for the next hour and a half.

Then again, the tight ring wound around Hisoka's cock wasn't exactly keeping track of time -- and neither were the two bound by their imposed mutual arrangement.

 

* * *

 

  
Other times, when Illumi calls him out like this, it's for Hisoka to pull him apart at the seams.  
  
Hisoka enjoys these nights when he gets to play the aggressor.  
  
Enjoys it quite a bit, actually.

Just he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys being broken in by the power of touch.

But yes.  
  
Penchant for switching aside, Hisoka likes whatever Illumi likes.  
  
Whatever Illumi wants.  
  
Whatever Illumi needs.  
  
He's a magician on record, a sadist-masochist by inclination.  
  
A dandy gentleman by appearance.  
  
By nature, too.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't indulge to the latter's tastes very often, granted, doesn't often engage in the latter role.  
  
But when he does?  
  
When he does, he **performs**.

 

* * *

 

Illumi seems to have developed a few...habits over the time they've known one another.  
  
Hisoka notices.  
  
He notices everything.  
  
But assassins aren't without their quirks and Hisoka's learned that from experience especially.  
  
Practical experience.  
  
For example, Illumi likes riding him, likes to control the pace and the outcome.  
  
He likes this position because he can keep an eye on Hisoka, supposedly, but it's more likely than he likes that he can face Hisoka and watch him come undone with those wide, near vacant eyes.

He likes to, minute by minute, exponential lessening fraction by fraction, let his facade of a mask split apart under Hisoka's careful thumbs and wandering hands and overeager tongue pressed to teeth and mouth.

He likes to hold himself back till that face pale and pretty morphs into something flushed and pretty, which is when Hisoka hears him gasp and writhe and shudder and bite down wherever and however he can muffle those delicious little noises--  
  
That's when Hisoka tells him, entreats him, to go ahead and _come again anytime,_ any time he'd like, that the palms just shy of gentle running down his spine aren't just for show, that he likes seeing Illumi-kun like this so much, that he likes Illumi-kun so, so much, and the saccharine susurrations join the hard twist of the clamps lifting welts onto Illumi's too-sensitive skin.

And **that's** when Hisoka hears it, then, from the moist line of Illumi's lips parting, in desperate stilted syllables but an unmistakeable mantra--  


* * *

  
  
(Hisoka, Illumi says, strained beneath the curtain of dark hair that he makes an effort to hide under, that Hisoka never lets him hide under, since it would be a shame to hide Illumi's face the way he does.

 

 _Hisoka_ , Illumi says again, a bit louder this time, claws at him and leaves a terrible amount of marks and bruises and stains everywhere he's touched Hisoka and anywhere those hands built for destruction can touch, whether it's one of Those Nights or whether Hisoka's the one knelt before him allowing himself to be cut or bloodied or beaten down to a mindnumbing sort of submission.

 

 _Hi so ka_ , Illumi says, stilted and strange, and his voice hitches into something Hisoka could have mistaken for a whine, borderlines vulnerable, if Hisoka were listening for such a thing.

 

If Hisoka were listening for anything but the sound of his name - _that's me, yes, don't wear it out now, darling_   - he would have heard.)

 

* * *

  
  
Still.

The gift of a single touch, Hisoka knows, is the most valuable that any person can grant another.  
  
Why?

Because it's an invisible weapon and a tangible form of trust unlike any other.  
  
Ah, but he isn't the only one who puts their hand into the proverbial flame so willingly.  
  
Neither is he the only one, Hisoka realizes each and every time he departs from Illumi's bed at the start of dawn, with a fatal weakness kept secret.

To all but one.

 


End file.
